


Day Sixteen: During Morning Rituals (AKA Falling for You is so Easy to Do)

by a_xmasmurder



Series: 30 Days of OTP: Bond/Q [16]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Breakfast to go, Confused boys, Feelings, M/M, Men can be Men, Not everything is sunshine and rainbows, Relationship Talk, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond is worried, Q makes it better (a bit), and then has a ridiculous coffee drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Sixteen: During Morning Rituals (AKA Falling for You is so Easy to Do)

**Author's Note:**

> Feeeeeeeeeeelings!!!! UGH! Ok, did my best. The rest is up to them.

“Q, you stretch like a cat.”

Q snuffled into the pillow and groaned. “Is it morning already? Can it not be morning?”

“Sorry, can’t turn off the sun, remember?”

“Ugh, argh.” The younger man pulled the covers over his shoulders and rolled off the couch and onto the floor with a small grunt. “What time is it, or do I even want to know?”

The floor creaked next to his head, and he peeked out to look at Bond’s bare toes. Then the agent crouched down and ran cool fingers through Q’s wayward bed hair. “Your work alarm went off, and I couldn’t really sleep to begin with. It’s five thirty-two.”

Q huffed. “Damn it. Alright. I’ll be a cocoon for a bit longer, then we need to get ready for work.”

“Should I bother making something, or do you want to stop for coffee and bagels?”

He perked up at that, his head coming fully out of the comforter. He squinted at Bond. “A bagel with veggies and cream cheese and all the goodies baked in, toasted? And a stupidly large coffee? I'm awake.”

James laughed. “Take away it is, then.” His smile lit up Q’s sleepy mind, and the hacker inched out of the covers wrapped around him and shivered a bit.

“I’m going to wash up and dress.”

********   
  
  
  


James leaned up against the kitchen counter and fiddled with the handle of his coffee mug. _His_ coffee mug. The one that was normally on his personal desk at MI6. The one he’d found here one day and asked Q about, but the man had waved it off, saying that it wasn’t a big deal.

 _What wasn’t a big deal? Becoming part of your life?_ Bond had also noticed the bedstand, and the extra room in the closet that was starting to accumulate his clothing. There was even a suit in there, a suit that he’d had with him one day; he’d stopped by to ask Q a question about Budapest and somehow didn’t make it back into his car. _Why are parts of my life showing up in Q’s? Was this how things were now? Were things of his going to start showing up around my flat? A keyboard, a video game, one of his skin care things? A hard drive, memory stick, a tablet? A shampoo bottle?_ Not that he minded, but he wasn’t sure...he should. You know. Get involved. With Q. _But you already said the word ‘dating’, haven’t you?_ Well, shit. He had. To M. In front of everyone. But. _Shit._ This was bad. He didn’t do dating, he didn’t do...not since...fuck. _Fuck._ He turned to face the bathroom, where he could hear Q - boyfriend - getting ready for another day at MI6. Probably with evil clothes, that evil cardigan and his plaid trousers and wrinkled shirt and half-Windsor knots and shaggy hair... _adorable Q, my Quartermaster...damn it. You’ve caught yourself in a trap again, James, and all you can do is snap and snarl and hurt people as you try to escape. And you have to escape this. You can’t afford to hurt Q. He’s harmless, and deserves better than you, a broken fucking killer who’s already past his sell by date._

But if he broke it off now...oh, God, Eve would castrate him. He’d never be able to look at Q in the face again. And Alec, oh, Alec would fucking _kill_ him. Kill him dead. Really dead. For real. Shoot him in the face and drop him out of the space shuttle dead. And M would send him to Siberia. Or Antarctica. Or Gary, Indiana. Or just have him shot. He would have Alec shoot him, actually... _Ok. I’m not going to break it off, but we need to talk about...whatever the fuck this is._ He took another sip of the coffee, and watched Q come out of the bathroom, looking less like the undead and more human.

********   
  
  
  
  


Q stared into the mirror, and tried to look into his soul. All his eyes revealed to him was that he really needed to shave, and the under-eye shadows he’d had since he was fourteen were turning terrifyingly dark. _This job is going to kill me, I think._ But he’d asked for it. He plucked up his razor and the shaving gel, and started the hot water running in the sink. _No, what is going to kill me is Bond. This is not what I’m used to. I’m used to people leaving in the morning and maybe I’ll see them at the club the next Saturday, or maybe I wouldn’t see them again. Not him, though. Not Bond. He’s here, he’s still here, I’ve been with him for well over two months now. And he’s far from normal. He’s...dangerous. Mental. Terrifying, much more terrifying than under-eye bags and spots. About as terrifying as successfully hacking the SIS database at twelve years old. And he’s got jagged edges that lie just beneath the surface, jagged edges that could slice people open._ Q started shaving. _Who doesn’t, in this line of work? But he has to be thinking about it. That’s why he’s padding around me like he could break me one moment, then gripping me like I’m one of his weapons the next._ Q hissed as he dragged the razor over his throat. _This part always bothers me. Logically, I can’t slice my throat open with one of these, but the idea alone bothers me...oh._ His hands still, and he’s left staring into the mirror, razor against his throat and shoulders shaking lightly. _That’s what he’s afraid of._

He finished quickly, threw on his clothes, scrubbed some product into his hair and walked out of the bathroom. James was staring at him, watching him with a combination of expressions on his face. An undercurrent of fear - _he’s questioning our relationship, too, thank God I’m not the only one_ \- accompanied with frustration, resignation and determination. _Alright. He wants to stop this. It’s fine. Perfectly fine._ Q smiled at him, but he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. _Even though it’s not alright, because my heart has disregarded all warnings and regulations and has fallen hard for you. Really bloody hard. And there’s nothing I can do but hope for the best, here._

James smiled back at him, calm and reassuring. “I’m not going to break up with you, Q.”

Q took a deep breath, finding that it was suddenly easier to do so. His heart was doing jumping jacks. _Oh, yes!_ “Oh. Well. Um...good.”

“I was thinking about it.”

“Yes.” _You'd be stupid if you hadn't._ Q walked over to his shoes and slipped them on, kneeling down to tie them. “I suppose. Well, I was, too.”

“What did you come up with?” Bond’s voice was distant. Not cold - just far away. Calm. Calculated.

Worried.

Without looking up, Q answered as truthfully as he could. “You are a weapon, Bond. A gun, a knife, honed to a deadly edge. You kill, you destroy, you do your job and you do it well. Sometimes, things get...mixed up. Caught in the whirlwind that is James Bond. Sometimes, those things get hurt. Emotionally. Physically.” He scowled at the toe of his dress shoes. There was a scuff, a scar, on one side. “Sometimes, they die.”

A sudden intake of breath. Nothing more. Q felt the kick of sadness in his chest. Yes, he'd read the files. He knew of the woman. Her. But he wasn’t her.

“But I don’t even fly, James. I don’t leave. I won’t be one of them. I’ll still be here, even if you manage to finally get yourself killed.” Q pushed to his feet, and faced the agent, who stared through narrow eyes. “I have a job to do as well, James. And I do it well. So if you want to continue this, I’m willing to. If you want to stop, then we will go back to whatever we were before this...whatever it is” - _love - SHUT UP BRAIN_ \- “began. Sound good?”

James turned around, set his mug down on the counter, and walked up to Q. At first, he just stood there, staring with those hard eyes, as if he was measuring how serious Q was about all of it, about everything. Then the softness returned, less than before but still tangible, and he reached out with calloused killer hands and stroked Q’s face, his ears, his hair. Bond’s thumbs rubbed over his red lips, his very very slightly crooked nose - schoolyard fight when some rugby players found out he liked boys as well as girls - and brushed up along his eyebrows. “I will tear you apart, Q. Damage you. I could kill you in your sleep. I will take everything you are and destroy you. You are gorgeous and utterly brilliant, and insane to want me.” He shook his head, and pressed dry lips against Q’s forehead, whispering “You call me a weapon, but you make them for me. What does that make you, hm?”

Q smirked. “A very dangerous man. And not someone you can break easily. I think we can make this work, James. I think we can.”

James nodded, and kissed his forehead again, higher this time, along his hairline. “God, I hope so.”

Q could feel his heart breaking at the desperate tone of his voice, the way James bracketed his head in those large hands and just held him. _A snow leopard, rare and beautiful. Dangerous, elusive, endangered. That is exactly what James is. And as ugly as his life has been, there’s one thing he’s got now that he didn’t really have before._

_Friends._

Q stood there and let James press his whole body against him, let him wrap powerful arms around his ribs and hold him there, against him. They breathed together, for each other.

“Okay?” Q murmured against James’s pectoral.

“No.” A breath. “Maybe.” Exhale. “I have no fucking clue.”

“Same here.” Q rubbed Bond’s back with both hands, pressing firmly into the polo shirt, rubbing the muscles. “We will figure it out as we go, yes? I won’t let you fall.”

“I’ll fall anyway.”

“No you won’t. Because I will be there in your ear to bring you back. Every. Time.”

Bond dropped his head to Q’s shoulder, and breathed.

********   
  
  
  
  


Q leaned back in the passenger seat and took a huge bite of his bagel, trying to keep bits of carrot and cauliflower from falling onto the leather upholstery. James chuckled at him, a quirk to his lips and brow that felt like it belonged there now. It felt good. “Don’t worry about the seats. I can get this thing detailed. Actually,” he leaned back and shifted his braking foot slightly, “I’ve got some blood on the floorboard again. I should get it worked on today.” He pulled out his phone and pressed a few buttons. “Go ahead and eat as messily as you want.”

“Don wanna ge’ any on m’ sui,” Q muttered around his bagel.

“English? Translation? Isn’t there an app for ‘Barnyard Animal’?” Q rolled his eyes dramatically, and James laughed again, tucking his phone away in the side pocket of his coat. “Finish your food, pup.”

“I said I don’t want to get any on my suit.” Q set his breakfast down and brushed the crumbs and broccoli bits onto the mats.

“Not like it would make any difference.”

“Oh, for the love of -” Q reached over and smacked James on the shoulder as the older man smirked and chuckled. “Enough about my clothes.”

“Not until you let me -”

“Alright, fine. Yes. You can doll me up, I don’t care. Just don’t expect me to wear it all the time.” Q picked up his giant caramel sweetened, whole milked, chocolate slivered, vanilla beaned mocha latte with no less than fourteen shots of espresso and a little something extra the barista threw in - chocolate covered coffee beans at the bottom, God he loved Annita May - and sucked at it hungrily. “Mmmmm, sweet mother of pearl, this is brilliant.”

“You are going to have a heart attack.”

Q smirked. “I can’t help but be addicted.”

“You realise how much sweets you had last night?”

He shivered with the memory of Bond's fingers in him, being filled with him, frantic fucking in the shower afterwards - “It was balanced by fruit on the couch, James!”

“I’m surprised you don’t have a belly ache.” He pulled up to the security station and held out his ID for the man working it - Markham - could scan it. “Hello, Agent. Who’d you piss off yesterday?”

“Eve,” the man grumbled. “And it was this morning.”

James chuckled again. “What did you do?” It wasn’t often that a field agent was put on security detail, but the reasons were usually good.

“Got into a pissing contest with 006 over a stupid radio.”

Q leaned over the gearshift and damn near into Bond’s lap. “The one with the little thing on the side that acts as a bottle opener?”

Markham looked at Q funny. “Quartermaster? What are you doing in 007’s car?”

Q blinked at him. “Well, I _was_ giving him a blowjob.”

The agent gaped.

“Oh, seriously. He gave me a ride because we stayed up way too late last night watching The Avengers and I was in no shape to navigate here on my own. People are so inane and gullible. Honestly!” The hacker shook his head sadly and pushed himself back into his seat.

James dropped his head against his seat and tried not to do two things - blush like a stupid little school girl and smirk like 007 would. He wasn't 007 right now. Right now he was James. He would never admit to failing admirably at the first. “We’re going to be like that now?”

Markham, after staring at them a bit, waved James forward to the ramp, and he finally allowed the cocky smirk to grace his lips. Q, to his credit, had a smug expression. James shook his head. “You little shit.”

Q turned to him. “What?”

“You little shit!” James pushed at his shoulder. Q only laughed louder, nearly spilling his overly processed coffee whatsit.

_He’s right. This could actually work._

James let himself hope for the first time in a long, long time.


End file.
